Hanging Onto Nothing
by Shamanic Shaymin
Summary: He learned to let it go. His dreams became nothing. His hopes became nothing. He and the rest of the ragdolls had nothing. Their sanctuary had nothing. He would hold that nothing like he held his staff… with an iron fist.


A/N: _I'm surprised that out of all the 9fics I finish first, it's one about 1. Not that I'm complaining. :)  
_

**Title**: _Hanging Onto Nothing_  
**Author**: Puri  
**Fandom**: 9  
**Genre**: General/Drama  
**Rating**: PG  
**Warnings**: Themes and character death, mild magnet use.  
**Ships/Characters**: 1  
**Finished**: Yes

* * *

_Hanging Onto Nothing_

Ragdolls weren't built to cry. They were built to accept tragedy. Tears were a human thing, and humans are extinct. Tears went extinct with them. What use did 1 have for tears anyway? There was nothing left to cry for. Everything worth feeling sorrow for vanished off the face of the earth long ago. Tragedy happened. So you acknowledge it, accept it and go on. That's how you survive. Heaven forbid any of the other ragdolls to break down, least of all 1.

8 was too stupid to be sad. The big oaf would go as far as to recognize unhappiness, but not know what it meant. It took a blasted magnet to register in the eternal guard's mind what it was like to not think, just accept. Accept it with a side of ecstasy. 1 warned him to toss the piece of junk outside and if he didn't do it, he'd do the job for him. So 1 did and wanted to be sure 8 didn't pick it up again. 1 cursed his own curiosity for not breaking it. Not only did 8 get to keep his magnet after all, 1 would snatch it from him while he was sleeping for his own use.

2 was already sent away. So be it. 5 was holed in his room searching for the old fool with his telescope, quiet as a lamb and as submissive as he's ever been. Good, it made it easy to give orders. 6 was obsessed with his chicken-scratch sketches, compulsively scrawling the same blasted circles over and over again. 1 scoffed. Whose habits were worse? At least he borrowed 8's in moderation. He sat in his throne, holding his staff as he peered across the room. Whatever gets their minds off things, it didn't matter to him, as long as it didn't lead outside. All was as it should be.

_We had so much potential._

All thrown away with such recklessness. Who knows what it would have been like had not the humans and machines destroyed their world? Perhaps, 1 could've been their leader, could've taken everyone somewhere safe until the war ended and they were free. That's what he just did with the rest of his kind, hadn't he? Maybe he could've been appointed Chancellor. Instead of ruling the world under dictation, he would've done away with such foolish activities and there would be no fighting, no destruction. Everyone would listen to him. Everyone would be safe. There would've been a time that maybe… outside his own guard, he would be taken seriously. If he could be revered and preserved their paradise, they would have a future. Everyone listened to the Chancellor. But nobody listened to 1. Look where it got them now.

1 held to that dream for a while. But he learned to let it go. His dreams became nothing. His hopes became nothing. He and the rest of the ragdolls had nothing. Their sanctuary had nothing. He would hold that nothing like he held his staff… with an iron fist.

1 smiled. He was satisfied with that.

* * *

Unfortunately for 1, 2 wasn't satisfied with being idle. He loved to create, he loved to take scraps and turn them into something new, and he loved to share them with everyone. 1's gruff behavior didn't deter 2 at all; instead, the inventor was chattier than ever and 1 dreaded their every meeting. It was thanks to 2 that 1 would look around the room and find that every object had its purpose, remembering the chess pieces were more than mere decoration. It was 2 that filled the sanctuary with so much hope, telling the others about the day they would find 9 and their "family" would be complete.

2 who explained the difference between laughing and crying. Laughing was another human trait, but one which the ragdolls were more than capable of. This 1 learned too well when 2 explained laughter and told some experimental jokes from a dusty old book he found… from 6's high shrieks and the 8 rolling on the floor and shaking the floorboards, rumbling with mirth. 1 didn't want to believe he laughed. But he did it now with a "humph!" and he reluctantly admitted that 2 was right. Laughter had the same effects as a magnet and you didn't have to lose your mind for it. Laughter, at least, was beneficial to survival.

2 might as well be 1's polar opposite. But 1 let him stay because he was one of them. He was the second to rise and was more or less closer to 1's age than the other ragdolls. They experienced the world longer, and should have been able to relate to each other easily. Maybe there was a time 1 would've understood 2's views. His outlook on life belied his age, sharing the eccentricities and optimism of a youth. 2 believed he could do anything. 1 had given up. 2 kept trying again and again. 1 thought this would've made him the unhappier of the two. Wouldn't each failure be worse after it comes one after the other?

1 envied 2. He shook his head of the thought with a laugh.

He was satisfied with that.

* * *

8 stood indignant, but his lip trembled. He would _much_ rather hide under something like 6 with his carpet of drawings, but he swallowed his pride and regained his stoic bravado by his Master's side. 1 glowered at 2. They were arguing again, but this time, it had escalated far.

"How many times have I told you not to go outside!? You're endangering us, 2! You are putting us under risk for destruction!"  
"I keep trying to tell you, 1," 2 spoke calmly, raising his hands in defense. "The last of our numbers is still out there. If we do not gather—"  
"Then let 9 come to us! I am _not_ going to risk life and limb to go out and be torn apart by the beast! It will find us; it will kill us! And you will be the one to lead it right to us!"  
"1, I am trying to tell you. There is more than one entrance to the sanctuary, and I am using stealth to—"  
"Oh! Using your inventions, I see! What are you going to do? Signal the Beast to our hide-out?"  
"1, please—"  
"Technology! That's how the humans got wiped out in the first place! You and your inventions. Your _technology!"  
_"I am not using my inventions for destruction."  
"Then explain the weapons, hm? You made them for 7. Look what happened to her! Has she come back?"  
"You have no proof that 7 is dead!"  
"But you have no proof that she is alive, or 3 & 4, for that matter!"  
"They will be found! I'm sure of it!"  
"So how about 9? To save us… humph! As far as I can tell, your technology has been killing us all off! It's killed 7, it's killed 3 & 4, and it's no doubt killed 9 before you even found him! What do you say now, now that you've killed who you were searching for!? Destroyed all the hope we could've been given! It is YOU who has doomed us, 2, it is YOU who has doomed every single one of us!"  
"Is it?" 2's voice lowered and became cool, his edged with a soft sternness normally uncharacteristic of him. There was the tossing of pages as 6 trembled behind a stack of folders.  
"Get out!" 1 barked, pointing at the darkness. "Get out and if the Beast enters our sanctuary, I am holding you responsible!"

His voice echoed in the building and there was an uncomfortable silence before 1 straightened up again, turning his back to the other ragdoll. Clenching his staff, 2's footsteps filled him with resentment. When he spoke again, it was a whisper:

"Nothing will keep you from going outside, will it?"

The footsteps stopped. 1 narrowed his eyebrows and his lips curled into a sly grin before continuing on.

"There's no stopping you, is there? I know you better than that. Perhaps I am wrong about you, 2. If you say that 9 has awakened somewhere, then now might be a fine time to look for him, hm? He could be close by. Yes… it's best you go out there before the beast finds either of us. You know the outside world better than I do. Prove it. Prove it 9 exists. Prove it that we still have that blasted hope you're always talking about."

Silence. It was the last anyone in the sanctuary heard of 2 again.

* * *

They made a funeral to 2. Gave him a proper sending. There'd be no sending for 8. He was an oaf but he protected him. Helped wash away all his insecurities for a while. So he'll be there for 8. Here to watch him burn. If 2 was washed away, a cremation would make a nice contrast for his body guard.

Now no one was there to protect 1. 1 didn't have a sanctuary anymore. 1 didn't even have 2 to resent.

He had nothing. The ragdolls and their music; they had nothing. He had no enemies anymore. He had nothing to live for. He protected that nothing for so long. Now what's the point? What good was he anyway? If nothing is all he had now…?

Accept. Move on.

He took off his hat and left it on the ground.

1 was built to accept tragedy. He was satisfied with that.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
